


Sunshine Warmth

by Fledgling



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledgling/pseuds/Fledgling
Summary: Kapkan gardens, and Glaz is in love.





	Sunshine Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be tattoo artist!Glaz/florist!Kapkan and it didn’t work out. So here’s super fluffy KapGlaz wherein Kapkan wears a sun hat and gardens and Glaz adores him.
> 
> Also, totally check out [this drawing](https://twitter.com/jeff_kapkan/status/1181334529530875905?s=21) by @jeff_kapkan of grumpy florist kap, because it gives me _life._

“Where’d you get the hat?”

Maxim looked up from the hole he was digging, pushing the sun hat he wore up in order to actually look at Timur. The sniper was watching him with an amused smile, sketchbook tucked under one arm.

“Alexsandr threw it at me when I was leaving earlier, though I have no idea where _he_ got it.”

Timur chuckled, taking a seat on the ground outside of the square of soil Maxim had claimed to use as a garden. He still wasn’t sure how Maxim had convinced Six to let him have the garden—assuming he had asked at all—but what had started out as just a few assorted flowers Maxim had transferred out of pots had sprawled into a rather impressive collection of flowers, fruits, and vegetables. While Maxim did most of the work himself—audibly complaining when anyone tried to help—there were a few plants that Timur knew he didn’t add; or if he did, it was because he was asked to.

“What are you planting this time?” Timur asked.

“Sunflowers. The mammoth ones, specifically.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I’ve always liked sunflowers.”

Timur nodded, tucking the detail away for later as he set his sketchbook in his lap and flipping to an open page. Maxim went back to his gardening, continuing to dig the hole he had started. It had become a routine of sorts, between the two of them: Maxim would work on his garden, planting new seeds and pulling weeds, and Timur would slowly fill in the pages in his sketchbook. They didn’t talk very much, happy to simply exist together.

Timur had just started putting the final details into his sketch when a bright red flower suddenly took up his field of vision. He blinked, glancing from the flower to Maxim, then back to the flower. He took it carefully, twirling the stem between his fingers. He looked back up at Maxim, a question on the tip of his tongue that faded away as he took in the view before him.

The afternoon sun had yet to dip completely below the treeline, casting the whole area in an orange light. Where he was standing—dirt streaked, basket full of blue flowers hanging off one arm and sun hat perched on his head—it made Maxim appear as if he was glowing, an orange halo outlining his form. It took Timur’s breath away and made his chest ache with a deep adoration, and the feeling only increased as Maxim raised one eyebrow, smirking as he observed Timur and his probably awestruck expression.

“You let your mouth hang open like that for too long, something’s going to come along and—”

Timur didn’t let him finish. He stood in a rush, uncaring as his sketchbook fell to the ground, and cupped Maxim’s face in his hands, leaning in and kissing him for all he was worth. Maxim kissed back just as eagerly, arm not burdened with flowers wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer. The ache in Timur’s chest loosened, releasing a fluttering warmth that spread throughout his entire body, making his head spin and hands tremble.

“I didn’t realize you liked the hat so much,” Maxim whispered against his lips as they parted for air.

“It does look very good on you,” Timur said. “But then again, so does everything. And nothing, for that matter.”

Maxim laughed, leaning forward just a bit and resting his forehead against Timur’s. Timur pushed even closer to him, basking in his presence. It was as if the sun had poured itself into Maxim’s body, radiating its warmth through him and making him bright and impossible to ignore. Timur tried to find a way to properly describe the pure happiness bubbling inside of him, and found he could not do so. He’d have to try and paint it later.

Another kiss, this one short and sweet, and they separated, Timur scooping his sketchbook up from the ground. After a second of thought he tucked the stem of the flower Maxim had given him into the spiral binding of the book. They headed back into the base, Timur capturing Maxim’s hand in his and threading their fingers together.

“So what are you planning to do with all of those?” he asked, gesturing towards the basket Maxim was carrying.

“I was going to give them to Lera. She’s been having a rough week; I thought they’d cheer her up a bit.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. Blue’s her favorite color, isn’t it?”

Maxim nodded, “Blue and orange, yeah. Really, she likes anything that’s brightly colored.”

Timur grinned. Lera always seemed to bring out the big brother in Maxim. He regularly went out of his way to make sure she was taking care of herself, encouraging her—and occasionally forcing her—to take breaks from her rigorous training. He did it for all of them, actually: making sure Shuhrat left the lab at a reasonable hour, distracting Alexsandr when he became too frustrated in himself, grounding Timur when he started unintentionally drifting too far into his own thoughts.

They walked the rest of the way to the residential building in contented silence, only separating once they reached their floor: Maxim to sit the basket of flowers on the coffee table and Timur to return his sketchbook to his desk. When he turned around Maxim was walking into the room, taking his sun hat off and tossing it onto the bed.

“So,” Maxim started, smirking, “I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to help me wash off all this dirt, would you?”

Timur grinned, crossing to where Maxim stood and pressing flush against him, hands sliding under the edge of his shirt.

“I think I could be convinced,” he said softly, “if you ask nicely.”

Maxim chuckled, wrapping his arms around Timur’s waist as he leaned in, leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his lips. Timur’s grin grew as he guided them towards the bed.

Getting clean could wait; they had a lot dirtier to get, first.


End file.
